Always Yours
by MusingOutLoud
Summary: A new beginning, a new chapter in Sarah's life. Only Jareth isn't ready to let her victory slide. Suddenly things start... changing. The Aboveground and Underground begin to merge in an unexpectedly, icy fashion. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold.
1. Snow in Spring

**Allo! Nice ta meet ya! Old MOL here, just a worm. A bookworm that is- and a huge Labyrinth fan. The M rating here is no mistake, but will come into effect in later chapters.**

 **So readers, enjoy and maybe drop a review? The missus would appreciate it :)**

 **(By the by, the Collage of Canterbury was found in 2015 in the state of I-made-it-up, and as an English native, please feel free to point out any inaccuracies where American culture is concerned!)**

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Snow in spring

There was silence in the library.

Really, that should have been a given, it _was_ a library after all. But still… the absolute quiet- thick as the dust settled across the many books- was a bit disconcerting. Sarah shook off her shivers, however, and breathed in the musk of unturned pages, noting the underlying scent of mould. She turned a half moon, taking in the many shelves of innumerable tomes, an old brass trolley, several chairs that were chewed and moth-eaten and the dull shine of a bell taped (yes, taped as in with actual _cello tape_ , Sarah noted with some interest) to a large, mahogany desk.

The place was a hidden treasure, so at odds with the new, modern library across the campus that Sarah wondered how she'd ever missed it. Sure, there weren't any comfy sitting areas or a coffee shop to pick from an array of sugared treats, but the place had its charm. It swelled with something tangible, something Sarah could almost taste in the air.

Knowledge, she realised. Without the hustle and bustle of students, the whir of computers and the rumble of the barrister's machines, all that was left to fill the room were the books and their words.

Sarah took to it at once.

"Oooooh by heck and heaven!" spoke a voice.

Sarah jumped at the sudden noise which cut through the quiet like a sword cutting through corrugated iron. She turned around, nerves jumpy, to find a figure carrying a stack of books struggling through the door behind the desk.

"Such a mess!" cried the voice in despair. It was a woman's voice and spoke in clipped vowels. English. "Aye I never saw such a sight- never touch a bookmark- must be karma!"

With a huff that sent a cloud of dust up into the air, the woman plonked the books onto the desk. "Ahh, there we go," she said, adjusting her glasses. There were bits of paper stuck in her honey brown hair, which was roped into a messy bun, and a layer of grime was smudged across her spectacles. The woman stretched, bones cracking and sighed, "Ooooh my back."

She straightened, revealing a tall, full frame and caught sight of Sarah standing awkwardly in the threshold. Well… she caught sight of a dark smudge.

"Ah!" she exclaimed. "Hello there dear, didn't see you there. You must forgive me, bad habit of talking to myself." She spoke quickly, as though the words were running away from her. "Can I help you at all- looking for a reference?" before Sarah could speak, the woman surged onwards in a wave. "No? Oh I'm Hattie by the by- terrible manners not to introduce yourself isn't it? Which brings us to your name, I should've asked sooner."

Again, Sarah opened her mouth to answer, but Hattie jumped in once again. "Oh wait a minute, let me wipe my glasses, can't hardly see you. Terrible to talk to a dark shadow."

All Sarah could do was laugh, softly and under her breath, at the woman's haphazard attempts to claim a handkerchief, which seemed to be stuck in the inside pocket of her bottle-green waistcoat.

"Here," she said, handing Hattie a tissue. Lucky thing she'd packed a packet today. "I'll save you the trouble."

Hattie blinked once, and then accepted the gesture with a sheepish smile. "Thank you, dear," she said, wiping away the grime. When they were clear as raindrops, Hattie took a closer look at Sarah. "Why, what a bonnie lass you are!" she said, warmly.

Sarah felt her cheeks flame and her head swell just a fraction at the compliment. "Um, thank you," she said, uncertainly. She cleared her throat and said, "I'm Sarah Williams, I'm here to-"

"Ah yes!" Hattie exclaimed, clapping her hands. "English Major, right? So _you're_ the new helping hand, eh?"

Sarah nodded, smiling. Two years at college had proved more expensive than she'd anticipated, especially when she's moved into a flat share. What with the rent and the expenses of drama club, it soon became apparent that she needed a job. Luckily for her, Student Services had hooked her up with a job onsite. Originally Sarah had thought the library she'd be working at would be the newer one she'd been using for the past two years. How _had_ she missed this place?

"That's right, mam, I-"

" _Hattie,_ ple-ease," interrupted Hattie with a laugh. "Don't make me feel ancient, I'll start sprouting grey hair on the spot!"

Again, Sarah laughed at the older woman's eccentric ways. Already, she could feel herself warming to her and silently thanked the snooty woman at Student Services. "Alright, Hattie then."

With a firm nod, Hattie blew at her floppy fringe, put her hands on her ample hips and announced, "Right, Newbie! Tour time. Grab your things and follow me."

Falling in line with Hattie's childish ways, Sarah clicked her heels together like a soldier and said, "Yes sir! Come on feet, time for the tour."

Hattie flashed Sarah a delighted grin as they began to weave through the many bookshelves, deeper and deeper into thick clots of shadow…

Xxx

Deep. Dark. Shadows like velvet. Moonlight like icing. A coldness that seeped and sunk into the very marrow of the bone, slipping like ice through the veins until every organ grew hard and sharp with cold. It consumed everything, every movement, every thought, growing into something almost _alive._ Alive and cruel.

The Goblin King pretended not to notice.

His boots were sure in the snow. His gloved hands were clasped in determined fists yet his expression remained aloof, almost uninterested in the goings-on around him. For hundreds of eyes watched him.

Closely.

Whispers echoed throughout the dead, frozen trees. Feet scuffled. Animal voices cackled.

The Goblin King came to a halt before what looked to be a giant flower of ice. Its petals were diamond shaped and closed, tight and sparkling in the silver light.

"Well," drawled Jareth, speaking to the air. "I must say I've never received such a literal, icy reception."

At the sound of his voice, something moved in the construction of ice. A shadow flickered from within. All at once, the voices hushed and the rustling ceased as the flower began to melt. From the liquid emerged a man, tall and pale blue with long, black locks that flowed like water. His eyes, dark as the oceans themselves, regarded Jereth coolly.

"King of the Goblins," he acknowledged in a voice like a babbling brook.

"Prince of the Many Waters," Jareth returned with much sarcasm and an elaborate bow. "Soon to be king I hear, what wonderful news- putting aside your father's coming death of course."

The Prince's eyes narrowed. Jareth smiled serenely.

"Why have you come?" asked the Prince. "You took down two walls of ice to reach these parts, the damage was quite substantial."

"Ah, yes, that," began Jareth. "You see-"

" _And_ youmelted my captain of the guard."

"Charming fellow." Smiled Jareth.

"The watch tower?"

"A mere misunderstanding, I assure you-"

"Not to mention the civilian homes that were destroyed."

"Now that," said Jareth, holding up a finger. "Was completely your fault, chap. Silly place to put a water reservoir, really."

Sighing heavily, the Prince asked warily. " _What_ do you want, Jereth?"

At this, a devilish smile graced the Goblin King's lips. A crystal sprung to life in his hands, glinting like starlight as Jareth began to toy with it. "What does anyone want?" he asked, turning the crystal this way and that.

"More of your riddles?"

"A question, nothing more."

Suddenly Jareth stopped his tricks and tossed the crystal at the icy prince, who plucked it with ease from the air. He regarded Jereth's smirking face for a moment. There was mischief hanging about the Goblin King, thick as cologne. Reluctantly, the prince glanced into the shimmering ball.

His eyes widened.

"But how-?"

"Ah, ah, ah," said Jareth, wiggling his finger. "Answers are something given when earned, so save the questions for when the price has been payed."

Anger surged through the prince's frame. His muscles tensed like bow strings and the water all around him sharpened into ice and splintered into deathly arrows. Rage swirled like angry waves in the Prince's eyes but his voice was low and soft.

"Your price?"

"A favour," Jareth said simply. "And your word, of course."

"And the favour entails?"

But Jareth was already turning on his heel, waving a disinterested hand in the air.

"All in good time, my dear boy, all in good time."

And then, he was gone.

Xxx

Hattie thought Sarah was just brilliant- no, brilliant was the wrong word. _Marvellous._ There, that was right. Just marvellous.

A lot of the students who wondered into the Sphinx's Library were there simply because a professor had recommended them a book which was not housed in the newer building. They breezed in and they breezed out, like tumbleweed. Of course, a few appreciated the finer details of the building, the hidden gargoyles carved into the creaking wood, the way the light transformed through the stain glass windows, dappling across the floor in reds and golds, but these students generally wanted quiet and study, so Hattie didn't get to chatter.

With Sarah though, she chatted away like there was no tomorrow. What's more, the girl actually seemed to _listen._

"Oh my…" Sarah murmured now. She pulled a book carefully from one of the cases and her face erupted in joy at faded leather and golden lettering. "It' beautiful,"

Hattie glanced over and grinned. Yep, Sarah was definitely a keeper.

"Well, we have to do old Oedipus justice, since the library's named after one of the more famous parts of his story." She said, pleased and a little smug.

With gentle hands, Sarah began to leaf through the pages of _Oedipus the King_ , made soft by the passing hands of time. "We did this last semester, if I'd have known there was a copy like this…" Sarah looked up dreamily. "How _did_ I miss this place?"

"It's a little out of the way, I suppose," said Hattie. "And it's awfully expensive to keep up- the college isn't too keen on showing visitors when there's mould in the rafters, not to mention a few bats." She coughed. "But you've found it now, love, and you're a part of the team."

They wound their way back to the main entrance and Hattie offered Sarah the seat, before plonking herself on the desk. "It'll be lovely to have some help. Which reminds me…" she refiled through some papers and then handed Sarah what looked to be a handout. "Everything you need to know is in there- what with dealing with reference books, a lot of the tomes in here aren't for taking out, you see. You'll work alternate days in-between your lectures- but that was sorted out before, wasn't it? Oh! And feel free to bring your work here, some days are awfully slow." She smiled, hands clasped in her lap and asked. "Any questions?"

Licking her lips, Sarah ventured, "Could I take another look around?"

The joyous laughter of Hattie echoed throughout the Sphinx's library.

Xxx

When Sarah trudged home that night, she did so with an armful of borrowed books- an array of fairy tales and quests, swashbuckling adventures and wild romances. The ache of her arms was tiresome and the muscles in her shoulders twanged in acidic protest, but Sarah didn't care. She felt like a bubble, light and happy and rising up.

The start of spring had proved the beginnings of a very fruitful semester.

All around, people milled about, tangling into a knotted mess of coats and boots, hats and outstretched arms. People chatted loudly on phones, students laughed together in close groups, children raced each other, parents scolded and shook their heads, anger quickly forgotten and an old lady (still dressed in thick winter clothes, woolly hat included) squatted amongst a group of pidgins. Only, she didn't feed them breadcrumbs, but rather a whole, apple pie- scattered into pieces.

Sarah drank it all in, letting the beating heart of the city, the pulsing veins of life wash over her and fill her with a sense of contentment. Moving to Vermont had been pure genius, on her part. Of course, it had taken a _certain_ amount of genius to make it into Canterbury to begin with- what with it' leading expertise in the arts. Luckily Sarah's vivid imagination had always translated well on paper and the strength of her writing had pulled through. Really, she would have to thank Irene one day for pushing her into entering all those writing competitions.

When Sarah was praised highly by her English teacher back in high school for her poetry, Irene had made sure to take an interest in her stepdaughter's work from then on. It made them closer- having a middle ground- and the silly tantrums Sarah had thrown were soon forgotten.

 _Well,_ thought Sarah, smiling. _Mostly._

She rounded a corner and came upon her flat which sat above a small coffee house. The barrister was outside, smoking, and flashed Sarah a smile.

"Why, if it isn't Lady Luck herself," he said, warmly.

Gil was a man on the small side, but thick limbed with coils of muscle twinned beneath the skin. His hair was jet black and a piercing split his lower lip. It glinted when he grinned.

Sarah returned the grin pointedly. "And if it isn't the grand coffee master himself, what's up, business not booming?"

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, Gil leaned away from the building and snatched Sarah's keys from her to unlock the door. "No need for juggling, if you're not a circus clown," he said, winking wickedly.

Sarah nudged him with her shoulder good-naturedly.

"Scoring points with her best friend, won't make a lick of difference to Martina, you know." She reminded him.

"Ah," sighed Gil, clasping his heart. "Tis true, but a man can dream, no? Besides…" he flicked open the door with a flourish. "I believe hold heartedly in the powers of our own lady luck and _maybe_ she could drop in a good word where this lowly person is concerned- _especially_ if the aforementioned unattainable Lady mentions a proposed date she received this morning?"

Finally, Sarah could take it no more. "Oh my god Gil, how are you not on a Shakespearean stage?"

Shrugging off his character, Gil ruffled a hand through his hair. "But then who would serve the coffee?" he asked.

Feeling all of the good events of the day flutter about in her stomach like butterflies, Sarah laughed freely. "Very true," she said. "Instant coffee is _so_ hard to find after all."

Gil looked at her seriously then. " _Instant?_ You wound me, Sarah!"

But Sarah merely bobbed in a curtsey.

"Seriously though, could you talk to her?" asked Gil, lowering his voice. "I think I might have a shot this time."

Backing up through the door, Sarah threw a wink at Gil and said, "I'll try my best, Sir Coffee, but alas the lady is one tough cookie to crack."

And then she skipped up the stairs, hair streaming behind her like ribbons of shadow.

Xxx

One thing to keep in mind about Martina… or rather several. Martina did not do pink. She did not do shiny. And nor did she do babies, sparkles, glitter, puppies, ponies or princesses.

"Why be a princess?" She'd once said. "When you can be a _freakin'_ queen?"

To which Sarah had replied. "What if your mum and dad are still around?"

"Murder," Martina had answered at once. "I've always wanted to use a chainsaw."

When Sarah found her roommate, she was nestled on her bed (sheets all black) and was sketching something fine and intricate. Martina always wore her glasses (a funky pair of checkered specs) when the artwork was detailed. Paired with her thick eyeliner, they made her green eyes pop like two emeralds amidst of a sea of onyx. They seemed to spark with the ebb and flow of her concentration, mirrored in the swift movements of her hand.

"The book worm returns," she said, without looking up. Her Canadian accent was softer than the American Sarah was used to, which contrasted with Martina herself drastically, since she was _anything_ but soft.

"And the vampire artist remains at home," tutted Sarah, not failing to notice that Martina had yet to change out of her skull and cross-bones pyjamas from this morning. "Have you even _seen_ the sun this week?"

A smirk curdled Martina's lips. She held her drawing up to the lamplight, scrutinising, before continuing with her work. "Sun's overrated," she snarked. "What's so great about the sun?"

At this point in time Sarah was finding it rather hard to keep the tower of books balanced in her arms as she toed her way out of her brogues. Shoes in the house was a Canadian no no.

"Oh I don't know," she huffed. "Warmth, vitamin D, tanning?"

"Urgh, don't even talk about tanning," Martina grumped. "Tanning's for Malibu Barbies."

With her shoes finally off, Sarah allowed herself a dry chuckle, and then padded over to her bed. Her side of the room was a good shade less gloomy and 'hard rock' than Martina's. She'd chosen to populate the walls with artwork she bought from the market every now and then, usually renditions of fairy tales, and a strong, tall bookcase took up most of one wall. A picture of her family stood on her bedside table, and the ticking clock proclaimed the time to be five thirty.

After a few beats of silence, Martina ventured, "Did bean boy bother you?"

Sarah hid a smirk.

"He wouldn't bother me," said Sarah simply. "If you'd actually talk to him for more than thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds is plenty of time to say something important," countered Martina. She bit the end of her pencil. "Help. I'm dying. I need money. There's someone in my house. See- all thirty second worthy. Anything over that is a waste of my time."

"You talk to me longer than thirty seconds," Sarah said, lightly.

Finally Maritna looked up, a smart alec reply poised on her lip, and then she saw the mountain of worn-looking books. "God, what did you do? Rob an old person?" she unfolded herself from the bed and padded over to Sarah's side. "It looks like the inside of my grandma's room." She picked up the topmost book on the pile and read the cover: Wuthering Heights. "Yep, definitely lonely, old lady territory."

Finally, Sarah managed to unbundle the books onto the bed with a relieved sigh. "Thanks for the help, by the way," she said dryly.

"No problem." Martina quipped, throwing Emily Bronte's masterpiece onto the mound. Her head only just reached Sarah's shoulder, but there was a certain grace about Martina despite her small size that was unmistakable. She glided over to their shared dinning table and said casually,

"Did bean boy not offer to help?"

Sniffing out an opportunity, Sarah replied with an equally casual air, "You know, for someone whose not interested, you're _awfully_ interested in his comings and goings, aren't you?"

With a twisted smile, Martina picked up a stray wad of crushed paper and chucked it at Sarah's head. "Oh shut up, I know he mentioned the date to you. You two are always in cahoots."

"Cause he's a _nice guy,_ " said Sarah. "And _likes_ you despite the cold shoulder you're so fond of,"

Martina toyed with the chains on her jeans. "I know," she said, quietly. "And that's it. He's too nice. I'm not nice- and don't give me that look. I'm not. You, are an exception." She sighed. "I guess I'm.. nervous." She admitted. "Like, it's been ages since I was last with a guy, I've think I've forgotten how to function properly around them- and what if I say something stupid?"

In three long steps, Sarah was before her friend, a stern look in her eye. "You. Are not. Saying no. Because of this." She said, firmly. "Martina Bennett has no fear- she's the most kick ass person I know."

Martina looked at her dryly. "Well duh," she said. "God, I hate pep-talks,"

"Then don't whine like you need one!" exclaimed Sarah with a laugh. "Go out and be you. Easy as pie."

"Easy for you to say," Martina grumped. "Everyone loves you,"

For a moment, Sarah faltered. "That's not true," she said.

"Oh please, you can twist _anyone_ around your finger. Look at that woman at Student Services, I swear I was gonna turn to stone under her glare and you _still_ managed to sweet-talk her. If you weren't nose deep in books all the time you could run for freakin' president."

"Martina, that's ridiculous."

"No it's not- it's this thing you do. It's like your charm becomes real- like glitter," she said with a click. "It's like you throw your glitter at people."

"That sounded stupid."

"Your face looks stupid."

"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaimed, aspirated. "Are you going or not?!"

For a moment, Martina said nothing. Then, quietly, she said, "If you come with me."

"Huh?"

"It's a circus, Sarah," Martina said, at last, and her eyes got narrow with focus. "It's dark so he'll never know. I'll buy you a ticket, I just need some moral support."

"You want me to follow you around a circus," said Sarah, slowly. "On a date?"

Martina nodded, as though she'd merely suggested coffee.

"You're crazy," she said, sighing. But the more she rolled the idea around in her head, and the narrower and more threatening Martina's eyes got, the more Sarah crumbled. "How is it that you'll chase some pervert down the street for me, but then turn into a big pile of useless goo when a boy likes you?"

"So you'll do it?"

In the end, all Sarah could do was nod.

Xxxx

Later that night, after their weekly session of trash TV and popcorn (Martina loved taking the piss out of the reality shows, this week was an episode of Sixteen and Pregnant) Sarah found herself alone in their spacious apartment. Martina had popped out to meet some of her art friends down at a bar, leaving Sarah with nought but her thoughts for company. She flicked over to the weather forecast, and saw that summer was on its jolly way tomorrow with a spell of hot weather and sun.

As the weather man droned on, her mind wondered, as it often does, to the many stories floating about her head. At the moment, the story at the forefront of her thoughts involved a young boy who came home one day to find his house had become a maze. A disjointed jigsaw of dead ends and lengthy passages. A labyrinth.

The thought caused a strange twist to coil through Sarah's stomach. The childhood dream she'd had, so often forgotten and then so often remembered, was something she visited in her thoughts frequently. There was a time when Sarah would have sat before a mirror to talk to Hoggle about her stories, but that was before.

Before she discovered that a story was just that. A story. A dream. And the day comes when a dreamer has to wake up, when you have to start taking reality seriously. She'd never let go of her dreams, of course- they were far more precious than most things, but now Sarah merely kept them in a drawer and focused on living her life to its fullest in _this_ world.

"You can't take anything for granted," she murmured, feeling the lull of sleep. "Right, Hoggle?"

And as the dark curtains of sleep fell across Sarah's mind's eye, something flickered outside. If she'd been alert enough, Sarah might have thought it was the wings of a white bird. Even more peculiarly, there seemed to be (just as the weather man suggested sun block might be appropriate tomorrow) a flurry of… snow, outside the window.

It fell, soft and white, like licks of lace on the breeze, as Sarah fell deeply into sleep.


	2. Strange Happenings

**Ooo WEE! This was fun to write. Extremely fun. Does anyone else find dialogue the best bit of writing? A big thank you to anyone whose given this work a glance and an ESPCEIALLY big thank you to LadyRana and Honoria Granger for their lovely comments and helpful advice.**

 **Seriously, I love criticism. HIT ME WITH IT.**

 **Anywho, enjoy and drop a review? :)**

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The goddamn _Fox_ was going to get them killed.

Again.

Hoggle lay in the undergrowth, eyes wide and breath held, as Sir Didymus wriggled towards the knotted clump of goblin guards. The survey team had caught Hoggle and the crew by surprise- not many goblins dared to visit the Forest of Sound after all- and they'd only just managed to dodge the armed guards in the last ten minutes. And now the fox was going to give them away.

Again.

"Fear not, Brother Hoggle," he'd whispered, as he scurried away from Hoggle's grasp. "I shall rid ourselves of these brutes, once and for all!"

And now all Hoggle could do was watch the bushy tail of Sir Didymus in despair. In the last five years, since… _Sarah_ (Hoggle had to force himself to think her name, feeling the familiar wave of sadness at her absence) had left them, the gang had been on the run from Jareth's cronies, plunging themselves into more dangerous territory in the hopes that one day no one would be brave enough to follow them. And in all that time, Sir Didymus had caused more trouble than a bull in a china shop.

He inched towards the guards, who were scratching their heads in confusion, raised his cane, and tripped one of them up. Then he was gone, in the bushes, quick as a flash.

Hoggle blinked.

That had been… surprisingly smart.

Again, Sir Didymus darted out, caught the guard round the ankle, and sent him flying. And again, he darted back into the undergrowth, invisible.

Above the hullabaloo, Ludo (who was pretending to be a tree) let out a pleased chuckle. "Friend clever," he said.

The last guard standing whipped around at the sound of the giant beast, but Sir Didymus was on him at once. Suddenly he threw caution to the wind and began beating the floored goblins with his stick, crying out in joy.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "You fowl creatures have been bested at last! You, my worthy adversaries, have had the pleasure of falling to my sword- Sir Didymus of the Bridge!"

"Your bridge ain't there no more!" Hoggle cried, springing up to drag the fox away from the groaning guards. "And we gotta keep movin',"

"Ah, ah yes," said Sir Didymus, his victory quickly forgotten at this revelation. "I need a new title- something honourable- something to strike fear into the hearts of all, something-"

The goblin guards sprang to their feet with angry grunts.

"How about Sir Shut up and run!" Hoggle cried. Behind him, Ludo cast away his branches and began to stride away in long, loping strides.

"Sir Shut and up and run?" said Sir Didymus, in confusion. "But why-?"

The goblins roared. Sir Didymus glanced at them.

"Ah yes, I do believe that would suit the situation," he said.

"DIDYMUS," Hoggle screamed, over his shoulder. "RUN!"

"Coming, Sir Hoggle!" Sir Didymus called.

And together they plunged further and further into the dark forest.

Xxx

Sarah stared.

She stared some more.

And more.

At some point her jaw began to ache from hanging open too long.

"You weren't kidding," she breathed at last.

"Why would I kid about _this?_ " Martina asked, dryly. She flung her arms out to indicate the entire street and raised her voice to a near shout. "It's a _freaking avalanche!"_

All around, there lay a thick, white quilt of snow. It enveloped everything- filling the roads, half consuming letter boxes, blocking doorways and clinging to every surface imaginable. A pattern of frost laced every windowpane, icicles jutted down from drainpipes and every word spoken aloud transformed mid-air into a puffy cloud.

Sarah couldn't believe it.

"But it's May," she said.

"Tell that to Jack Frost," quipped Martina. She hugged herself, for she was still wearing the thin, black dress she'd worn last night. "I thought I was still drunk when I woke up," she added, shivering.

Down the street, other people began to emerge from doorways, eyes wide as saucers. Kids laughed delightedly and flung themselves into the powdery miracle. Catching sight of one girl (who _literally_ flung herself in the snow, head first) Sarah reached down to touch the icy layers of spun sugar. It came up to her waist, so she didn't have to reach far.

The initial cold that graced her fingertips sent a shock throughout Sarah's arm, like a series of electric tingles, but then she relaxed and really began to _feel_ the snow. At surface level, it was just like any other flurry, but as it began to melt against her skin, Sarah got the distinct feeling that something was… _off._

The texture didn't feel right, the sparkle was too bright and there was a certain… sweet scent in the air.

 _You know this,_ a voice told her. _You've felt it before._

Magic.

"Er, earth to Sarah," said Martina, waving a hand in front of her friend's zoned out face. "Hey did you hear me or not?"

"Huh?" asked Sarah, blinking.

"I _said-_ do you think classes will be cancelled today?"

"Oh, I er, I don't know. I'll check the website." She turned to go inside, still somewhat dazed, but a cheerful voice stopped her.

"Well, look who's on my doorstep." Said the voice, emerging from the coffee shop.

Martina grabbed Sarah's arm instantly, preventing her escape.

Gil offered them his brightest smile- which was almost disgustingly bright. He was wearing a thick black jumper, skinny jeans and a bright red scarf which was obviously a Christmas castoff. In his hands were two steaming, polystyrene cups which he offered to them, somewhat sheepishly.

"Hot chocolate cures a cold spell- even a freak one," he said.

Martina stared at the offered cup like it would bite her.

"Aw, thanks Gil," said Sarah, accepting both cups and shoving the excess one at Martina. She clutched at it almost robotically. "This is so weird, isn't it?"

Gil nodded, eyes flicking shyly to Martina. She was staring straight at her cup.

"Yeah, news says it's just Vermont too- they don't have a clue what's going on."

An awkward silence. Sarah stepped on Martina's toe. _Hey!_

Martina glared at her. _What?_

Sarah indicated Gil with her eyes. _Go on._

Martina raised an eyebrow. Stubbornly. _Go on what?_

Sarah sighed.

"Wonder if the _circus_ will be cancelled, it's tomorrow night, isn't it?" said Sarah, pointedly.

Hope flitted across Gil's face. "No I checked, they have a backup venue, bizarrely- apparently they play in some harsh places- Russia and-" he fumbled, excited. "Yeah, it's still on."

They both turned to Martina expectantly.

With effort, Martina steeled her nerves. She would _not_ become a pile of useless goo. She _would not._ Taking a firm hold of herself, Martina gripped the hot chocolate, raised her chin and looked him directly in the eye. A fighting stance.

 _Oh boy,_ thought Sarah with a small smile.

"If we're doing this, I have a few conditions," she said, trying desperately to remain aloof. "First, don't pick me up, meet me there at five," said Martina, firmly. "Second, no flowers, chocolates, or," she gestured to the cup. "Beverages. And don't be late. Got it bean boy?"

Gil, bless him, couldn't have looked happier. "Sure, no acts of kindness, no gestures of goodwill and immaculate punctuality. I can do that."

Martina's eyes narrowed slightly (despite the slight blush painted across her cheeks) but Gil only grinned. He looked higher than a kite. Sarah gave herself a silent high five.

"Well, we've got to check if classes are still on," said Sarah. She gave Gil a sly wink. "See you later, Gil."

With an over-the-top bow, Gil bid them farewell.

On the stairwell, Sarah couldn't resist a low chuckle.

Martina glared at her. "Oh shut up."

Xxxxx

The Goblin King lounged in an ancient oak tree like a panther, eyes lazily flicking over the frozen landscape below.

The magic trapped in the snow was starting to take effect- that much was apparent. In the Aboveground, where magic was something rare and almost extinct, Jareth found it difficult to maintain his true form. He was a creature _of_ magic after all. For where humans were hewn from earth and flesh, he was spun from starlight and moonlight, like silver spider web. But now that the town lay dusted with the essence of his making, now that the worlds were _merging_ , Jareth found to his amusement that he was caught between the bodies he used in the respected worlds.

The wings he'd grown used to over his years of spying had shrunk into things that resembled arms (though the feathers still clung, fast and thick) and claws adorned his bare hands and feet. The unearthly, mismatched eyes he possessed were still large and owl like- drinking in the chaos below.

Jareth smiled sharply.

"Come now, don't lurk, chap, it really doesn't suit you." he spoke.

After a beat of silence, the Prince of the Many Waters emerged from a frozen pond below. "I wasn't aware you knew me so well, Goblin King." He said, icily.

But Jareth was immune to his foul mood. He felt lighter than a bubble. "Ah," he said, breathing deeply in. "How much sweeter the air tastes, you've done an impeccable job, my Prince."

"But for what purpose, I wonder," muttered the Prince. He folded his arms and surveyed the town below with a critical eye. "What business could you possibly have with the Above dwellers? Not enough children to steal as of late?"

Jareth allowed himself a laugh. "Sarcasm does not suit you either, I'm afraid," he said. "I much prefer your usual, stoic self, your highness." His feather shrunk a little further and Jareth smirked. "The spells are taking effect so quickly- perhaps you are prodigy after all."

The Prince of the Many Waters' eyes narrowed. "I keep my word, Goblin King," he snapped. "You better see that you keep yours."

And with that he sank into the depths of the pond and disappeared.

Jareth didn't even seem to notice. He swung his legs in long arcs, humming a tune from a memory long forgotten, a ball, a dance, a dream…

"Sarah, Sarah," he whispered, summoning a crystal. "How close the hour grows…"

Overhead, snow began to fall once more.

Xxxx

When Sarah finally fished out Hattie's number from the depths of her coat pocket and connected to her phone, the snow had started falling again and the wind had grown restless and bitter. The dial beeped for a long time- so long that Sarah was just about to give up- when it connected with a muffled click.

"'Ello?" said a voice.

"Hattie?" spoke Sarah. "It's Sarah Williams, I-"

"Oh hello, love!" Hattie cried. In the background something crashed and papers scattered. "Oh hell's teeth," she muttered. "Sorry love, I really need to sought the desk out. But heaven knows that pales in comparison to the weather! Such strange happenings- completely out of the blue, and so troublesome too! Some of its leaking through the rafters- I've managed to save our dear Oedipus though."

"Yeah, it's really strange," Sarah agreed. "I just called because- well, even though Student Services told me everything's closed I thought I'd check- wait," Sarah paused. "Hattie, are you at the library?"

"Hmm? Yes dear," Hattie said quickly. Too quickly. "But it's alright dear, you don't have to come in, we are closed after all."

"But how did you _get_ there?" wondered Sarah aloud. "The snow's so thick…"

A moment of silence crackled across the line.

Sarah put some sternness in her voice. "Hattie…"

"Well, I may have stayed overnight, dear," said Hattie at last. "Got carried away with my papers and- hem- well, yes. Nothing to worry about though! I'm right as rain."

Another crash.

"Really, Sarah, there's plenty of crackers in the cupboard from last year, there's a kettle and the pipes haven't frozen over yet."

But Sarah wasn't listening. She was shrugging on her coat and calling Martina.

"Sarah?"

"I'll be there in ten."

Then the line went dead.

Xxx

" _Why_ am I doing this again?" whined Martina. She was covered from head to tail in all the Canadian snow gear she owned. All black of course. Sarah rather fancied she looked like the she-yeti of darkness.

" _Because,_ " said Sarah, shovelling snow away from the Library's entrance. "Hattie's stuck inside."

"So?" Martina drawled, shovelling hard despite her protests. "I don't know her- she could turn out to be my sworn enemy and here I am trying to help her."

"I don't think Hattie could be anyone's enemy," laughed Sarah.

An icy layer of sweat had settled across the girls' skin as they worked, and a bright, red flush stained what little flesh was visible. The stone gargoyles overhead watched their work with unseeing eyes, crusted with ice crystals and darkened with age which transformed them into hagged ghouls. They were giving Martina the creeps.

"Well," she muttered. "She hasn't met _me_ yet."

Overhead, a sudden banging caught the girls' attention. They glanced up, just in time to see an arm fling open a frozen window on the second floor. Hattie's head popped out shortly after, and she waved frantically.

"Cooie!" she called, enthusiastically.

"Cooie?" Martina repeated, disbelievingly. "Did she seriously just say cooie?"

Sarah shushed her and waved back.

"Really, you don't have to go to such trouble!" Hattie called down. "I was in the Girl's brigade when I was younger- terrible business- but it taught us to survive the wilderness!"

Sarah waved her off. "We're almost through!" she called back. "And Martina's Canadian- she's built for this."

"You do realise that's racist," Martina drawled, from the side. "Really Sarah, I can't believe we're friends."

Again, Sarah ignored her. "We'll be inside soon!" she called to Hattie. "Why don't you make some tea while you wait?"

Hattie's face brightened. "What a marvellous suggestion," she muttered. "I'll do just that!" and then she disappeared inside.

"Still think she's your sworn enemy?" asked Sarah, eyebrow raised and superior.

Martina started shovelling again. "Ah quick slacking, we've got snow to move and your technique is _all_ wrong."

They laughed and set to work.

Xxxx

Meanwhile, Hoggle was holding a meeting.

Around the table sat Sir Didymus, Ludo and Ambrosias- who had slunk back with his tail between his legs when they'd finally given the goblin guards the slip. Sir Didymus scowled at him frequently.

"Right, 'eres the thing, they've chased us from the Babblin' brooks," Hoggle shuddered, remembering the insistent gossiping of those godforsaken waters. Bloody chatterboxes. "Right into the depths of the forest- which means," he sighed. "They ain't givin' up."

Everyone sagged a little. Well, everyone accept Sir Didymus.

"That is why," he said now, standing. "We should stop this quivering and fight- let us band together as brothers once more and storm the castle!"

"That ain't gonna work, yer idiot!" Hoggle snapped. "Jareth will fry yer before yer get close! Besides…" he trailed off and Ludo spoke up to finish his sentence.

"No Sarah," he said, sadly.

Everyone slumped a little further at that. Even Sir Didymus.

"We need ta find some place no one'd want to follow us," said Hoggle at last.

"Well," said Sir Didymus, airily. "I _did_ suggest that perhaps-"

"I ain't livin' in a bog o' stink for the rest of me life!" Hoggle snapped.

"Really, the name does not do the place justice, Sir Hoggle, for the air is rather sweet- especially in summer time and-"

Hoggle sat down heavily and sighed. "Should've never helped that girl," he muttered as Sir Didymus prattled on. "Only caused trouble, it did, should've led her back to the damned beginning."

Suddenly, something round and solid fell from the trees and hit Sir Didymus on the head. Immediately his cane was out.

"Attack!" he crowed. "We're under attack!"

"It ain't an attack, knucklehead!" Hoggle snapped, he bent down to pick up the object- which looked a little like a coconut. "It's a Decibel seed."

"Oh," said Sir Didymus, straightening his hat. "Of course."

"They don't usually fall until summer," said Hoggle. "Unless…"

Ludo reached out and plucked the seed from Hoggle's hand. "Message," he said, and then he smashed it against the table.

These Decibel seeds were what earned the Forest of Sound its namesake. They absorbed any sound around them like the creaking of trees, the rustle of leaves, and the sound of a person whispering into their openings…

As the seed fell apart, a woman's voice rose up from the remnants.

"I'm a friend," said the voice, promptly. "And if you're Hoggle, Sir Didymus, Ludo and Ambrosias, keep listening."

Another seed fell, and Ludo smashed it open.

"You must come to the Isle beyond the mists, as quickly as you can." Said the voice.

"The Isle?" Hoggle gasped. "There ain't no way-"

Another seed fell, cracked and turned the foursome's world upside-down with four simple words:

"Sarah is in danger."

Xxxx

When all was dark and still, when the stars shone with dispassionate light and nought but the rustle of frozen leaves was to be heard, Jareth moved to strike. He slunk through the shadows and slipped through the darkness like a knife through butter- softly and as illusive as a dream. He honed in on distant voices and found himself before a grand, erected sign which had survived the sudden snow.

 _Zhelaniy Circus._

Outside, a clown was leaning against a snow shovel, smoking. Another man- the ring master stood with him.

"Come to America," he said, in a thick accent. "And the snow follows us,"

The clown chuckled, smoke billowing. "The Russian curse," he agreed. "But still, these people are so funny- a little flurry and they fall apart."

"Still," said the ringmaster, he was a tall man, fair and rather good-looking. Two tear drops were tattooed under his blue eyes. "There seems to be something in the air, no?"

The clown looked around and frowned. "What do you mean?"

The ringmaster thought about it. "Something… foul."

Suddenly, a large, looming shadow rushed up behind the ringmaster. The cigarette fell from the clown's lips and a scream lodged itself in his throat at the sight of owlish eyes, fanged teeth, feathered flesh and the dull sheen of unnatural claws.

"I couldn't agree more, dear humans." Said a silky voice.

And then their screams erupted and echoed into the silent darkness of night.

* * *

 **And now, a riddle. I love riddles. Incidentally, the answer is the title of the next chapter. :)**

 **Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it.**

 **Who uses it can neither see nor feel it.**

 **What is it?**


End file.
